


Ablaze

by LeaperSonata



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, F/M, Self-Harm, attempted suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-22 13:15:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2509133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeaperSonata/pseuds/LeaperSonata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cadence is a mage who hates magic and believes that it ruins everything it touches. Given her life, she has some reason to.</p><p>(Some of this is an alphabet and some of it isn't and it's kind of a mess but it's been like two years and I'm clearly not going to finish it, so HERE IT IS.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ablaze

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to know why she survives the letter I, which I never managed to actually write about, see the end notes.

Accident  
Cadence stomped into the space of packed dirt behind the house, toting a straight branch she’d cleaned the twigs and leaves off of. Carver gave her a bemused look. “Cady? Why-”  
She whirled on him with a glare. “Don’t call me that, Carver!”  
“Sorry, Cadence,” he sing-songed with an unrepentant shrug. “Why are you here? You’re supposed to practice with Bethany, not me.”  
“I don’t want to be a stupid mage,” she grumbled. “So I won’t. I’ll hit things with sticks instead, like you.”  
Carver looked dubious. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”  
“I don’t care. I’ll make it work.” she insisted, lifting her stick and aiming it inexpertly it at him. Dodging backwards, he scooped up his wooden practice sword with a sigh.  
“Whatever you say, Cady.”  
Swinging the stick at him harder, it met his practice sword with a crack. “I said, don’t call me that!” Carver smirked and ducked around behind her to swat the back of her knees. Cadence whirled with a squeal, and whacked furiously at him, growing ever more irritated at her easily blocked every strike.  
He grinned infuriatingly and stuck out his tongue at her. “What was that, Cady? I can’t hear you!” She lunged at him with a snarl of frustration, aiming for his head, and glared daggers as he fended that off just as easily. “Was that a bug I just squished? Must have been!” he mocked, dancing backwards.  
“If it’s so easy blocking, then let me try!” Cadence snapped, brushing her hair back out of her face. “Go on, hit me!”  
“If you insist, Cady,” Carver laughed, and swung his wooden blade towards his sister, expression of mischief suddenly changing to horror as he saw there was no way she could get her staff over in time, and it was far too late to pull the blow. It connected with her side, knocking her breath out in a surprised gasp, and sent her sprawling backwards.  
As her head cracked into the ground, a ball of fire exploded out from her, and the sword in his hands burst into such vicious flame that it was ash in seconds.  
She sat up with a groan, one hand clutching her head, the other holding her side, and saw the ashes of the sword dropping to the ground.  
Time stopped. The blood drained from Cadence’s face. She scrambled to her feet, her own pains forgotten, and reached out a tentative hand. “Carver? Are you-”  
He stumbled backwards, arms cradled in front of him. “Don’t touch me!”  
“Carver, I’m sorry,” she begged, trying not to look at his hands. “I didn’t-”  
“I said don’t touch me!” he shouted, wild-eyed with panic and agony, and fled back towards the house, tripping over the grass. Cadence stood where she was for a moment, stricken, before whirling and racing blindly away. On stumbling into the edge of the river, she came back to herself and looked around desperately for some further escape. Her eyes lit on the little dirt-walled cave nearby, long-abandoned burrow of some animal, and she crawled inside. Dark. Safe. Hidden. Nothing to hurt, here. She curled into a ball at the back and gave in to hysterical sobs.  
Slowly, her crying quieted, and when Malcolm went to look for his elder daughter, she was staring at her hands with quiet horror. Crouching at the entrance of the cave, he squinted into the dimly lit interior.  
“Cadence? Sweetie, are you in here?”  
Her breath hitched in an involuntary half sob, and she wrapped her arms around her knees, curling into herself tighter.  
“Cadence, please come out,” he coaxed.  
She glared at the wall, fingernails biting into her palms. “No.”  
He sighed and switched tacks. “Aren’t you hungry? I can’t fit in there to bring you lunch.”  
“Don’t care,” she muttered sullenly. “Let Carver have my lunch. He deserves it more.”  
“Sweetheart, I know you didn’t do it on purpose, and your brother is fine.”  
“Bethany fixed it, didn’t she,” Cadence whispered, raw envy in her voice. It wasn’t a question. “Bethany made it better, because Bethany can heal people, not just hurt them. Bethany can control her magic.”  
“Yes, your brother went to Bethany, and she healed his hands. There’s no lasting damage-”  
“No lasting damage!” She giggled, high and mirthless, the edge of hysteria clear in her voice. “Well, that’s fine, then! It doesn’t matter that I accidentally set my little brother on fire, because there’s no lasting damage!”  
“Cadence, we understand you didn’t mean to-”  
Uncurling, she launched herself out of the burrow, bowling her father over. “Didn’t mean to? Of course I didn’t mean to!” she screamed, tears streaming unheeded down her cheeks, as flames started to flicker at the ends of her hair. “That’s the whole point, isn’t it, that I didn’t mean to, that I can’t control it! I’m dangerous, daddy! Carver knew it, I saw how he looked at me! Why did I have to be a mage? Why couldn’t I have been normal, like Carver? It’s your fault I have magic!” she shrieked, pummelling his chest ineffectually, “Take it back!” Malcolm caught her hands and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her close, and she broke down sobbing into his shoulder. “Please, daddy,” she whimpered. “Make it go away.”  
He stroked her hair, a thin layer of ice over his hand protecting it from her little flames and putting them out. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. If I could take it away, I would.”  
“I hate it,” she whispered into his shirt. “It hurts people and I hate it.”  
“I know,” he murmured, rocking her gently. “I know.”  
“I won’t miss lessons anymore,” she promised dully.  
“Good girl,” he said quietly. “If you work at it, your control will get better, I promise.”

 

A is for Apostate

Fleeing. Hiding. There are many shades of meaning in the word 'apostate'.

The biggest one is fear.

Fear of the templars. Fear of the Chantry. Fear of your neighbors.

Fear of yourself.

Magic doesn't come to heel like a well-trained dog for everyone, you see. Oh, some mages are golden and perfect, and spells leap from their fingers without effort when they wish them to, and you'd never see a trace of their magic any other time.

Cadence is not, was not, could never be one of those.

Cadence is the apostate child who had to be kept in the house, away from the children of the village, for the sake of the family - even the most dull-witted templar would notice the fact of a mage under their nose when a child bursts into tears and the ends of their hair burst into flames.

Some apostates were never able to hide in plain sight.

And, of course, some can - perfect pretty Bethany, with a talent for healing rather than destruction, she never had even a flicker of mana flare out against her will. And Malcolm Hawke's control was strict and absolute - it had to be, to remain a free apostate as long as he did.

Only Cadence was the wild card, the dangerous one, a hazard to the concealment of her family.

Apostasy is not a pretty life.

Sometimes you forget how to stop hiding.

B is for Bethany

Sometimes she wished she could hate her sister.

It would make her life less complicated, to have a target for her feelings. And who better than the golden child, the beautiful one, the one who could create instead of destroy? Kind and pretty and talented and everything Cadence was not, from her long black hair flowing smooth and perfect to her waist, to the developing curves that the boys of Lothering watched with hungry eyes. Control enough to be allowed to play with the other children.

But of course Bethany was also as unfailingly kind and understanding as Andraste herself, and impossible to hate.

Even for the clumsy elder sister with hair ragged from flickers of fire, plain and skinny and a board, who couldn't control her magic or her temper.

C is for Cave

Sometimes she couldn't bear being in the house any longer. Her mother's hysteria at everything, her sister's unfailing grace, her brother's sulking resentment, her father's unending patience - too much.

And of course the one without control couldn't be allowed out into the village, so there was only one direction to run, to get away from everything. (Malcolm quietly convinced Leandra that there was little that could possibly harm their eldest on this side of the river the first time Cadence fled, and started biweekly scoutings of the area to ensure that this was the case.)

She was eight the first time she found the cave down by the riverbank. Just a little earthen burrow, abandoned by some animal, but quiet and private and nobody else's. She dug it out a little bigger with a broken board until it was just the perfect size for her, and packed down the dirt. After several withered tries, she managed to transplant a vine to hang down over the opening as a screen.

She could curl up inside, hidden from the world, and stare at the water, and try and forget herself.

As the years went on, and her control got no better, and she could never cast the tiniest scrap of healing magic, she ran to her refuge more and more. It was there she found herself after running blindly from the terror in Carver's eyes after the accident, and there she ran from the accusations in Leandra's after Malcolm's death.

The little cave by the river was her place - the only one she had.

D is for Dying

It was a stupid accident, a ridiculous confluence of bad luck you'd never believe in a story.

Malcolm had taken his elder daughter out past the wall into the wilder areas outside Lothering, to work on her control away from the eyes of the village. They were breaking down camp to go back home - Cadence was turned away, taking down the tent...

And then, the bear. A rabid bear, that close to the town. It slashed Malcolm's stomach open - intestines and blood spilling out through his fingers - and he fell.

And there was the stupidest accident of them all - the rock. There was a rock, and he fell, and his head struck stone, CRACK!, and knocked him unconscious. Cadence threw fire, and fire, and fire at the bear until it stopped moving, filling the clearing with a sickening smell of burning flesh, then dropped to her knees beside her father and begged him to wake up. Home was too far to go get her sister in time, and she wasn't Bethany, she was Cadence, she couldn't heal or help or stop the bleeding, and daddy please wake up you can heal this wake up daddy please...

And Malcolm Hawke bled out in the arms of his eldest daughter, as she sobbed hysterically and pleaded for him to open his eyes, to wake up and fix it.

She burned the bear to ash after she realized her father had stopped breathing, tears still streaming down her face, fire flickering over her clothes and hair and leaving scorch marks behind. She rigged a litter out of their tent, iced the ground to smooth the way, and slowly began to drag her father's body home.

When she reached the door of the cottage - long after dark, long after they were expected home - she was covered in blood and soot, and still flicking with flames. Leandra went white at the sight of her, and started screaming when the litter moved into the circle of light from the door.

Cadence flinched, wavered a moment, then dropped the poles of the makeshift litter and fled into the night.

I is for Immolation

After running from Leandra after Malcolm's death, Cadence first went to the little cave by the river - bigger now, she had enlarged it over the years as she grew. She spent a few miserable minutes curled into it, sobbing - dry sobs, she had run out of tears, how could she run out of tears her father was dead and it was her fault she should never stop crying - numb with misery.

A little while later, though, it occurred to her that she was not very far from the house, from the town, and her mother, her sister, her brother - they could find her, and then the accusations wouldn't just be in their eyes.

She had to leave, get away... and what, inflict her cursed presence on some other unsuspecting innocents?

No. A moment of sudden clarity.

There was an easy solution, a way to stop hurting people. It was a wonder she'd never thought of it before.

She'd have to get away first, though. Away from people, from anyone who might see flame or smoke and try to investigate, or worse, help.

Decision made, she swam across the river to circle around the town - far away from any prying eyes - and made her way south, towards the Wilds.

She traveled for several hours, until she could no longer see a hint of light to the north, before dropping to the ground under a bush and falling into an exhausted sleep full of bloody nightmares.

The light of dawn woke her, and she pressed on, ignoring the complaints of her stomach.

Food is for the living.

After a second night on the ground under sparse cover, and a second day staggering over hills, she looks around at the scrubby unpleasant land, and decides she's come far enough.

(Let's take a moment to look at our girl, as she surveys the world for what she believes is the last time from eyes blank with misery. She's always been small, but after two days of strenuous hiking without bothering to eat, and of constant drain on her magic, her ribs are outlined on her skin, her hipbones jutting, and her cheeks and eyes are sunken. Her face and arms are covered with scratches and little trails of blood, from her indifferent shoving through the bushes. Her previously chin-length hair is half gone, in uneven smoking chunks, and her leather tunic and leggings are a mottled black and starting to fall apart from the depredations of the flickering fire of her self-hatred.)

She doesn't want to start other things on fire and do damage to anything else, and this little valley has a large flat rock, slightly cupped, in the centre. Stone is immune to fire. She can't hurt anything, there.

Cadence pulls herself up onto the boulder to sit crosslegged in the centre and closes her eyes.

Reaching into herself, she takes hold of the spark of flame, and feeds everything she has into it.

There is heat, and pain - a single choked scream torn from her throat - and then there is nothing at all.

 

Behind  
Cadence stalked impatiently back and forth across the well-worn stones of the Merchant’s Quarter, gritting her teeth. “Damnit, Carver, NO! I don’t care how much you want to go, I REFUSE to deal with Mother’s blame if something happens to you on my watch!”  
“It’s my decision, sister!” he insisted stubbornly, “She can’t possibly blame you!”  
“Logic didn’t stop her from blaming me for Bethany!”  
Carver jerked as if he’d been slapped. “Don’t drag Bethany into this!”  
“How am I supposed to leave your sainted twin out of it, Carver?” Cadence snarled, out of patience. “Mother certainly doesn’t! It’s forever Why-didn’t-you-stop-her this and How-could-you that! And she’s not going to be any different if something happens to you!” She glared at her younger brother, arms folded across her chest, trying to hold back an edge of panic. No matter how vehemently she shouted that she wouldn’t bring him along, he was perfectly capable of following them anyway. She hoped he didn’t think of that. Their mother would act just the same as if she’d dragged him along kicking and screaming, if something happened. “We’re not going to the damned Golden City, Carver, we’re going to go wade in darkspawn and hope there are a few old bits of dwarven jewelry lying around they haven’t eaten yet!”  
“If it’s going to be that bloody useless, why did we let that dwarf convince us to go into debt up to our necks for it?” he snapped.  
“I said dangerous and unpleasant, not useless. We agreed there weren’t any better options than Bartrand’s expedition. You can go do something less suicidal with your time! Visit the Blooming Rose without me or Aveline mocking you! Drink yourself under the table at the Hanged Man with Gamlen! Leave Mother one of her children not heading out into the Deep Roads! Which are, may I remind you, where the darkspawn are! Darkspawn like the ogre that killed her other daughter!”  
Carver threw up his hands in disgust. “Have it your way, sister. You always do. I’ll go find my own way. Again.” He turned and stomped out of the square, towards the Blooming Rose.  
“Personal drama over with? Then let’s get underway,” growled Bartrand, coming up behind her.

Aftermath

"Perhaps it is time to move forward. I just don't know where that leads. Do you?"  
"I'd - like it if we could find out together." Cadence bit her lip, unable to stop herself from trying again, knowing she shouldn't-  
"That is my hope, as well," Fenris broke into her thoughts with a smile that stopped her heart. She'd never dared to hope he might not hate her, never let herself dream of an affirmative response. She didn't deserve one, after all.  
"We have never discussed what happened between us three years ago," he continued, expression turning pensive.  
"You didn't want to talk about it," she managed, with forced brightness. Of course she'd never imposed so much as to ask, much as that night had haunted her.  
"I felt like a fool. I thought it better if you hated me - I deserved no less." His bitterness at himself was clear as he rose, pacing over to stand before her. "But it isn't better. That night... I remember your touch as if it were yesterday. I should have asked your forgiveness long ago. I hope you can forgive me now." Her? Forgive him? As if he was the one that had ever done anything wrong?  
"I never hated you, Fenris." Only myself. "There is nothing to forgive."  
"If there is a future to be had, I will walk into it gladly at your side," he said, the love shining out of his eyes so pure and unexpected it hurt, and she stood - barely noticing as she knocked the bench over in her haste - and stepped into the arms where for first time in three years her world felt right.  
Fenris kicked the bench absently aside, pressing Cadence towards the wall. She stumbled backwards, tangling her hands in his hair and kissing him hungrily, with the desperation of years. He ran his hands down her sides, then made a disgusted noise and yanked off his gauntlets, dropping them unheeded to the floor and fumbling at her belt. Reluctantly removing one hand from his head, she tentatively reached down to pluck at the buckle of his belt, eventually undoing it and letting it fall to the ground.  
Fenris stepped back - she tried to suppress a flash of panic - and unbuckled his armor, swearing absently as his fingers slipped in his haste. Finally managing the fastening, he dropped his chest plate to the floor with everything else and began to undo his coat. She reached out to pull it off of him, but he stepped back with a smirk.  
"Fair is fair, Champion." She looked puzzled for a moment before realization dawned and she hurriedly stripped her tunic off over her head. He drank in the sight of her for a long moment as he let his coat fall to the ground.  
"You’re beautiful," Fenris murmured as he took her into his arms to kiss her again, then swept her up and carried her the few remaining steps to the bed. Cadence giggled with surprise and smiled up at him. "I'm sorry, it's a mess-" he began, suddenly aware of the condition of the house.  
She yanked him down into a fervent kiss that demonstrated just how little she cared about whether his bed was made. He grunted with surprise and moved to kneel over her on his bed, running his hands over her, drinking in the feel of her smooth skin. Breaking the kiss for a moment, he pulled her boots off, tossing them aside as he drank in the sight of her. Moving back to the bed, he cupped her face in his hands, kissing her tenderly. He lost himself in the presence of her for a while, then slowly slid his hands down her sides to reach her leggings and fumble at the fastening, reluctantly leaning back to see what he was doing.  
Cadence, unseen, looked nervous, suddenly remembering why she’d begun to wear leggings underneath in the first place - she had three years of practice not thinking about it, and of course she’d never expected him to touch her again, never considered the ramifications if... She’d begun to reach out to stop him, to come up with some excuse, when he succeeded in untying them and tugged them down past her hips. He stared, puzzled, at the white bandages swaddling her thighs, and glanced up see her biting her lip. Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he finished removing her leggings to reveal legs entirely wrapped in bandages.  
"Hawke. What happened to you?"  
"I - it's nothing-"  
He unwrapped a section of bandage and was confronted with the sight of scars, some clearly long healed, some still scabbed over, spiralling around her legs. "You're not lacking for potion money. You could go see that abomination even if you were. Why haven't these been healed? What did this?" he looked back up to see her turned away, red with shame.  
"It's nothing, Fenris, please-"  
"No. I will not let you stay in pain like this. I will not touch you in pain like this and hurt you more." He stepped away from the bed and looked through her pack by the door for a moment, coming up with an injury potion and a fresh length of bandage. He returned to kneel beside her again and slowly unwrapped her legs, one at a time, smoothing the potion-soaked cloth over them.  
Cadence winced, seeing the rage in the tight set of his shoulders. As he progressed down her legs she felt muscles relax she hadn't even noticed had been tense, only realizing in the sudden cessation of pain just how much pain there had been. She'd gotten used to the ache, the past three years, gotten used to ignoring it. She bit her lip as he finished down to her second ankle, the entire network of swirling lines - the older scars wider, with less sharply defined edges, the newest clean and sharp and narrow, as her control had improved - across her legs revealed.  
"Fenris-"  
He lunged and pinned her to the bed, face inches from hers as he growled, "These are burns. Explain."  
"I...they're exercises, control maintained in the face of pain-"  
"Bullshit. The truth, Hawke."  
She closed her eyes and forced the word out. "Punishment."  
"Who did this to you?” he snarled, starting to glow blue. “I'll-"  
"No, Fenris. From me." She opened her eyes again, and the despair of the last three years was clear in them. "For hurting you. For being a mage. For being too much of a coward to slit my own throat and take that much more of the threat of magic out of the world."  
He released the grip on her shoulders she only realized now had been bruising and sat up, facing away from her on the bed. Cadence bit her lip and reached towards his shoulder, then pulled her hand back. "Fenris-"  
"Never," he ground out. "You will never hurt yourself like that again."  
"I-"  
He whirled to face her again and she could see the wild panic in his eyes. "Promise me, Hawke. Swear you'll never do that to yourself again."  
She stared at this man she had hopelessly loved and had hated herself for wanting, had hated herself for the selfish desire to force a mage into his company, and loathed herself anew for hurting him further. How could she continue, knowing what it did to him? "I promise, Fenris. I'll stop."  
"And don't you DARE slit your throat," he ordered furiously. The lyrium glow vanished and his face crumpled from rage to desperation as he added, voice breaking, "Please."  
Cadence looked down at her legs, tracing the spiralling lines with a finger. "There's nothing magic doesn't spoil, you've said it yourself-"  
"I will not let it have you!" he snarled.  
"Then... promise me, Fenris?” She looked back up at him, pleading. “Swear you'll kill me yourself. If something happens, if this curse corrupts me, if I become an abomination. Promise you'll stop me. Promise you'll never let this curse harm an innocent."  
"I promise," he growled, and crushed her against him, his lips finding hers. She melted in his arms, knowing that at last it was safe to relax her guard, and kissed him with a fierce unrestrained joy that spoke further of what her last three years had been.

 

Candles  
Cadence walked into the estate with relief, tension visibly leaving her shoulders. Champion is a position with far too many eyes on it. Acknowledging the greetings of Bodahn, Sandal, and Orana without really hearing them, she wearily made her way up the stairs to her suite.  
Reaching the door, she blinked at it in confusion. It was unlatched, and light spilled out from beneath. What-?  
She pushed it open and caught her breath. Her bedroom was a shimmering constellation of candles, gauzy veils of incense perfuming the air. She drank it in for a long moment, then started and spun at a quiet cough to her left.  
Leaning against the wall, in leather only - armored gauntlets and chest plate abandoned for once - Fenris smirked at her. (Almost... nervously?)  
"I take it you approve, Champion?"  
She made a face. "Maker, don't call me that." Stepping around flames without glancing down, she went to him and kissed him lightly. "Yes. It's beautiful."  
"Beautiful women deserve beautiful things, my dear Hawke. And hardworking saviors of the people deserve to lay their burdens down for a while." He took her staff from her back and leaned it in the corner, then slid his hands slowly up her back to find and release the buckles of her armor.  
Cadence shivered, eyes drifting closed, and leaned into him after her chest plate had hit the ground. "Mmm. Do hardworking saviors deserve beautiful elves, too?"  
Fenris just smiled, and picked up the Champion of Kirkwall to carry her to the bed, where he finished divesting her of her armor, boots, tunic, and leggings. Laying her face-down on the bed, he shushed her when she started to move and make and inquisitive noise, then started working the tension out of her shoulders.  
She groaned. "Ohhhh. Don't stop doing that for about a year. Please."  
He looked down at the slight woman who tried so hard to save everyone, prone beneath hands that could kill her in an instant, and marveled at her trust in him of all people.  
He slowly massaged his way down her back, wincing at her many scars, until she was a limp puddle on the bed. Thinking she'd fallen asleep - and well-deserved - he started to move away from the bed, but a hand flew out and caught his wrist firmly. He glanced back to see Cadence, hair in her face, glaring at him sleepily. "No. Stay."  
Relenting, he removed his tunic and slid into the bed beside her. Cadence wrapped herself possessively around his chest and sighed in contentment, eyes drifting closed again.  
Running his fingers softly through her hair, the Tevinter fugitive watched the Champion of Kirkwall sleep in his arms as a hundred candles slowly burned out around them.

Conflict  
“Do you support the mages or the templars?”  
The templars, of course.  
People always give me odd looks when I stand up for the templars. When that cursed abomination blackmailed me into helping him in exchange for the maps, he preached mage freedom, and shouted at me when I shut him down.  
It’s always “But you are a mage! How could you not support them?”  
Look around you. Look at the city of chains. Look at the maleficarum and abominations lurking in the corners of Darktown.  
Remember that Maker-damned maleficar who killed my mother, and look me in the eye and tell me you think mages should be free.  
That nasty little possibility is always there, if you’re a mage. There is always a demon waiting for you to slip. And it is the innocent that will suffer when you do.  
Look at the charred walls of the Gallows, and tell me that any man should have that much power, that much death at their fingertips. And not all of u-them can control it perfectly.  
Where there are mages, there will be harm to innocents. It is an inevitable as the rising of the tide.  
Magic is a curse. It must be controlled, for the safety of all. Mages are dangerous.  
(I am a danger.)

**Author's Note:**

> Self-immolation! She survived it because Flemeth saved her, because Flemeth saw a future where she would be useful. I couldn't figure out how to write it. So I didn't. So it ends up being totally unexplained how she kills herself and then goes on being alive. Oops.
> 
> (Honestly I had to Deus Ex Machina it because I worked out her early life and paused and went 'there is literally no way she wouldn't have killed herself before the game starts' and I had to figure out how to work around that. Because I played her through the game, so she obviously survived to it.)


End file.
